


Prompt: Common Cold- Shiro (Voltron)

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Common Cold, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:16:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: for my Bad Things Happen Bingo cardBlue-s-heart on tumblr asked: “common cold w/ Shiro bc i love my boy (team fluff if you please)”





	Prompt: Common Cold- Shiro (Voltron)

Shiro had always been one of those people who refused to believe they were sick until they literally couldn’t move under the weight of the congestion in their head. His mother had always attributed it to a familial level of stubbornness, his dad to an honorable streak a mile wide. Shiro himself mostly figured it was that he just didn’t have time to waste; he had things he wanted to get done, and didn’t want to let something as silly as an illness get in his way. If he wasn’t sick enough to be literally unable to get up, then obviously it wasn’t too serious. 

This mentality both helped and hindered him. It often meant that he got sicker than necessary before he’d admit he had a problem, but it also let him power through things that might have stopped him. He had things to do, things he wanted to accomplish, and he wasn’t going to let something as mundane as a cold get in his way.

He has a feeling this had helped him a lot in surviving the Arena, pushing through things that might otherwise have gotten him killed, but now it was something of a problem. He knew, objectively, that pushing when he didn’t really have to was more likely to bite him in the ass now; his immune system had been compromised by his year with the Galra, weaker now from constant stress and malnutrition. He knew that his internal ‘is something wrong?’ meter was seriously skewed. He’d learned to shove down discomfort in favor of action to the point that sometimes he didn’t even notice when something was wrong until it was much worse. Keith had cottoned on to it, and did his best to keep an eye on Shiro, asking him if he’d eaten, asking when the last time he took a break was, nudging him in just the right way that it didn’t ruffle too many of Shiro’s feathers. Shiro’s been trying to be more mindful; he never intends to worry the others, though he knows he does it anyway whether he means to or not. He’s been trying, when he doesn’t feel good, to stop a moment and evaluate- is he hungry? Thirsty? Has he been scowling at a screen for the past 8 hours without surfacing for air?

So when he wakes up and immediately starts coughing, he takes a moment to evaluate. His first thought is ‘what would Keith do?’, and realizes that’s a bad standard to have. While Keith is overprotective of Shiro, he’s not generally any better at taking care of his own wellbeing. A better gauge is ‘what would Hunk tell me to do?’. Now that he’s more aware, his head is pounding- he can feel the pressure in his sinuses, his chest aches from the force of his coughing, and he weighs the benefits of getting up versus just turning over and going back to sleep. He thinks nobody would blame him if he did go back to sleep- hell, some of them might actually congratulate him on his progress- but he also knows that if he feels bad enough that he’s considering going back to sleep, it means it’s probably bad enough he should get checked out.

Which means he needs to get up.

Ugh.

He gives himself another minute to wallow, then untangles from his blankets and levers himself up to sitting. He loses another moment to more coughing when his congestion shifts, and by the time it quiets he’s feeling even more exhausted than he did before. Yeah. Definitely should get checked out.

He finally gets up, finds the Black Lion slippers Lance had given him, pulls on a loose shirt over his sleep pants and shuffles out the door. He plans on finding Coran, getting checked over at the medbay, and then coming right back to bed. No reason to get completely dressed if he’s just going to go back to sleep; he just doesn’t have the energy to spare.

It’s slow going down the corridors, and he knows it’s a matter of relativity, but the walk toward the control room feels longer than usual. When he arrives, he finds Allura and Lance discussing something in front of the star map, and Shiro’s almost directly behind them when he interrupts.

“Have either of you seen Coran?” His voice is scratchy, rough, and it hurts to talk. Great.

Allura and Lance turn to look at him and Allura’s eyebrows go up in surprise, while Lance’s drop in concern.

“Hey, Shiro, you just missed him, and are you ok, you look kind of-” Lance cuts himself off, realizing at the last second how rude it would be to tell Shiro he looks terrible, but Shiro understands- he kind of feels that way, too.

Allura nods in agreement. “You do not look well at all, Shiro. Are you ill?”

Shiro swallows, wincing, and nods. “Yeah. I figure if I feel this awful I should get checked. I don’t think we have anything major on the books today, so barring alerts, I’ll go back to bed after we make sure this isn’t anything serious.”

Allura and Lance look at each other a moment, a silent conversation between them that Shiro is just too tired to follow. They nod at each other in understanding and Lance takes off out the door. Allura moves forward, ducking under Shiro’s shoulder, putting an arm around Shiro’s waist to steady him, and herds him toward the door. “Lance will fetch Coran and meet us at the infirmary.”

Shiro grumbles, but doesn’t pull away. The longer he’s upright, the worse he feels, and it would be embarrassing to topple over in the hallway because of a cold. So he lets Allura help support him on the walk to the infirmary- he knows she can more than handle it- and sinks gratefully onto the edge of one of the hover beds when they arrive.

His whole body aches now, and the pounding in his head has only gotten worse. He longs for his bed, and only Coran’s sudden arrival with Lance trailing along behind keeps him from laying down and going to sleep right here.

“Alright, number one, let’s see what we’ve got. Lance here tells me you’re not feeling your best.”

Shiro dutifully weathers Coran’s exam, and they discover that yes, Shiro is most definitely sick, but it’s not anything too horrific, just a run-of-the-mill virus. A few days of rest, some Altean decongestant, and lots of liquids should see him feeling better. He thanks Coran and is preparing himself for the trek back to his room when Allura sidles up next to him again.

“Do you require assistance, Shiro?”

Shiro carefully considers his options: on the one hand, he normally wouldn’t accept the help, but he knows that’s largely due to the fact he can be a stubborn ass at times. On the other hand, he’ll feel even worse if he ends up not being able to make it back on his own and has to call for help. He sighs, giving in to the lesser of two evils, and nods. “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Allura beams at him, and before he can stop her, she’s scooped him up in a bridal carry and is making for the door. He flails a second, dizzy from the sudden change in orientation, before settling in her arms. It’s not the first time she’s carried him, and likely won’t be the last, and he’s secure enough in his masculinity that he’s able to enjoy not having to walk back to his room.

He attributes it to not being at his best that they’re almost to their destination before he realizes they’re not actually heading to his room. Allura walks into the lounge and sets him down gently in a mound of blankets and pillows that isn’t usually there on the couch.

“What-”

“Lance told us you weren’t feeling well, so we wanted to be sure you were comfortable somewhere we could keep an eye on you.” Hunk appears from the side of the room and drops another couple of blankets over Shiro’s lap.

“This is all really nice of you guys, but I’m not that sick. I can just go back to my room and sleep, I’ll be fine.”

Hunk looks up and gives Shiro a look that would make lesser men quail. “Shiro, remind me if you will, what happened the last time you got sick?”

Shiro gulps. The memories are kind of fuzzy- his fever had been quite high at the time- but he can vaguely recall thinking he had to go somewhere, some kind of mission, and Black refusing to move from its hangar until someone came to fetch him and brought him to the infirmary.

Hunk nods at Shiro’s silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So you’re going to stay here, you’re going to nap, and you’re going to let us take care of you. We’ll mostly leave you alone, though, don’t worry.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

“I’ve got some soup on right now, and we’ll be making sure you drink all the tea, soup and water you never knew you needed. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

Hunk smiles beatifically and wanders out, leaving Shiro alone in the lounge. Despite his general feeling of irritation, the couch is very comfortable, the blankets are warm and soft, and the pillows are stacked enough that he can breathe better even when he lies down. He burrows under the blankets until only his nose and up are sticking out, and closes his eyes, drifting off to slightly wheezy, but comfortable sleep.


End file.
